Their Lives Would Never be the Same
by shegoismyfav
Summary: Forget Joe Gillis, New Years' Eve, and shots fired. Forget everything you know about Sunset Boulevard, including the year it was set. Because this is not about Joe and Norma, or even Max and Norma. It's about Norma and a girl. Elizabeth "Beth" Woods wants nothing more than to meet her idol-the great Norma Desmond. And she just might get her wish... MOVIE-VERSE
1. Prologue

Max knew as soon as he opened the letter that their lives would never be the same. He screened all of Norma's mail, just as he had when she was at her peak. Of course now that she no longer worked they seldom got mail at all, unless it was bills or the occasional junk mail. That was what made that particular letter so different. It was written in shaky cursive, as if by a child.

He would soon find out after opening it that it was indeed a child who had written it. It was a fan letter, a real one. One so heartfelt and sincere he had to read it twice and then triple check that it was meant for Norma. It was from a little girl who listed her age as no more than twelve, and the only thing she wished for in the world was to meet her favorite actress, Norma Desmond.

It was 1942, and Norma had been out of work for over a decade. The masses of people who had once written and begged for her autograph had forgotten her, all except this one child. That day Max didn't write his usual two hundred letters. He only took her the one. At first, she was confused and thought it was a joke. A letter from a child? Absurd.

But the more times she read it, the more interested she became. So much so that she didn't question why her usual large pile of mail had decreased so drastically to only one letter.

"Max!" she called late in the day.

"Yes, Madame?"

"Respond to this little girl, this Beth. She'll get her wish. Tell her to come here tomorrow at ten o'clock sharp."

"Yes, Madame."

As he went to find the phone number to call the child, he could feel a shift in the air. Something was about to happen, something big. And it would all start with one Beth Woods, a very lucky girl indeed.


	2. Meeting Norma Desmond

It was nearly eight o'clock when the phone in the Woods' home rang. A girl, no more than twelve, raced to answer it. She looked older than her age, perhaps sixteen or seventeen. She was very beautiful. Her hair was dark and curly and hung past her shoulders.

Her face had high cheekbones, not too high, but well formed and noticeable. Her lips were full and a deep rose color, bringing out her bright blue eyes. She had often been told by older adults, mainly her teachers at school, how much she looked like an actress from the old days, a Norma Desmond. Naturally, this got her interested in this mystery woman. She had looked up everything she could about her and learned she had never made the transition to talkies.

Her luckiest moment had been when she was nine years old. She had found a picture of the woman as a young star, no more than sixteen. She'd dropped the photograph as if it were on fire, shock and surprise written across her features. If the picture hadn't been twenty-three years old and clearly had the name Norma Desmond scrawled across the back she would have thought she was looking in a mirror. Ever since that day she had been dying to meet the star.

She had managed to see all her movies, and thought they were all fantastic. She hadn't had the courage until recently to actually write to her, and that had taken such courage that she was sure she would faint as she dropped it in the box. She only expected a signed photograph, if that much. Surely a great star like Norma Desmond wouldn't want to waste her time on a child. Before she had rushed to answer the phone she had been holding up that same picture from three years before, comparing herself to the beautiful woman. She had to admit, the older she got the more she looked like her.

"Hello?" she asked, slightly out of breath.

"Is this a Miss Beth Woods?" a deep and heavily accented voice asked.

"This is she," Beth replied, suspicious as to who was calling.

"Miss Desmond wishes to meet you. She took a great interest in your letter. You are to come to 10086 Sunset Boulevard at ten o'clock tomorrow morning. Madame will be expecting you."

He hung up before she could reply, which was probably a good thing because she felt like she was going to pass out. She numbly put the receiver back on the hook before walking to her room in a daze. Norma Desmond wanted to meet her. Her, a simple child and daughter of a studio electrician! Who would have guessed her dreams would come true?

"I'm going to meet Norma Desmond. _The_ Norma Desmond," she breathed, still in shock.

Her eyes widened as she came to two important realizations. One, she had school the next day, and two, her father couldn't know about it. He despised actors and actresses, possibly because so many looked down on him for what he did. He was a strict parent, raising her alone since her mother had died in childbirth. He would never allow her to miss school, especially not to meet an actress, no matter how she idolized her.

"What am I gonna do?" she asked the walls. "I can't just not go." She paced for several minutes before an idea sprang to mind. "It's so simple. I'll just get ready like I'm going to school, but instead I'll find my way to the mansion."

She spent the rest of the night contemplating what to wear and changing her mind numerous times. She eventually settled on a dress of her mother's. It was a deep red, wine she supposed, off one shoulder with small rhinestones sewn in to catch the light. The only problem was that she couldn't properly fill out the top. She was only stumped for a few minutes before deciding that it wouldn't hurt to stuff her bra, just the one time.

Makeup she wouldn't bother with, since she didn't know how to properly apply it. Her hair would be up, a ponytail on top of her head with the curls flowing down her shoulders. She carefully hid the outfit so that her father wouldn't see it if he happened to come in her room. She laid out her normal dress as if she were going to school, planning to switch them after he left. Beth then went to bed.

She knew she wasn't going to sleep, but she thought she might as well try. A few miles away, Norma had already picked out her dress, headpiece, and heels. She was also in bed, the only difference being she was sleeping soundly, unfazed at the prospect of meeting a fan. Though it was late, Max was still awake making sure every inch of the large villa was spotless. It wouldn't do to have it appear dirty to a visitor.

* * *

Beth got up the next morning and took her bath as usual. In fact, everything she did was part of her morning routine. Her father left before her as always, wishing her a good day. She smiled pleasantly and waited a full ten minutes before rushing back to her room to change. She only had a few hours to make herself look as flawless as she could, and on top of it all she had to be gone before nine in case her father had forgotten something and came home.

She dressed quickly, a little tissue down her bra and she was fine. Her hair was somewhat harder to handle as she had never styled it to such a magnitude. It took her three tries before it was in the proper position and the curls stayed in place. For a moment, she almost decided to try the makeup after all, but once she looked at her mother's old supply she changed her mind. She put on a dark lip gloss instead, and found that to be all she needed.

Slipping on a matching pair of low heels, she chanced a look at the clock. It was after nine, and she knew she was lucky her father hadn't come back. She hurried out the door, making sure to lock it, and headed in the direction she knew Sunset Boulevard to be.

* * *

Norma had woken at her usual time, eight, unfazed by the looming appointment. After breakfast she bathed, taking care to wash her hair thoroughly, simply because of the products she used daily. It was still dark, though she had noticed certain streaks beginning to lighten. Once dry, she slid into a beautiful black dress. It was tight and hugged her figure, with a swooping neckline and a drop back.

Her makeup was next, a task that consumed a good chunk of time. First came the base, followed by the concealer, then the powder, blusher, and bronzer. Her eye shadow was next, which today happened to be neutral tones of brown and tan. After that was the eye liner and mascara, followed by the final touch, her lipstick. As always, she wore a red shade, though it was a bit brighter than usual.

Last was her hair. It was curled as she always kept it, but styled so that her headpiece, a simple band of diamonds, could stay in place. Standing, she stood back from the vanity and crossed to her full length, three-way mirror. She posed and turned, checking every inch of herself to make sure she was as close to perfect as possible. Satisfied, she sat down to wait. It was nine-fifty-three.

* * *

Beth finally located 10086 Sunset Boulevard. It had taken some time, and quite a bit of walking, but she had done it. She wasn't late, she was sure of that, because the sun wasn't high enough to signal late morning. Taking a deep breath, she made her way up the winding drive. The house itself looked to be a bit neglected, but she supposed it was hard to keep such a large estate going. Nervously, she made her way to the door and rang the bell.

It was mere seconds before a man opened the door. He was tall and broad-shouldered, managing to look imposing without doing anything. He was dressed in a suit, complete with gloves, leading Beth to believe he was a butler.

"Yes?" he asked in a deep accented voice.

She realized this was the same man she had spoken to on the phone.

"I'm Beth Woods. You spoke with me on the phone yesterday and said Miss Desmond wished to meet me."

As if seeing her for the first time, his eyes widened and he looked her up and down. She immediately felt self-conscious. Was she not dressed properly? But she didn't shift or fidget as she waited to either be dismissed or allowed to enter. Finally, he stepped aside to allow her to enter.

"Come in, Madame is expecting you."

He looked like he had seen a ghost, which she both understood and found humorous. If she'd needed any further convincing that she looked like the star, she had just gotten it. He led her into a large room filled with pictures. There were other things too, the usual furnishings. There were plush chairs and couches, tables holding both pictures and flowers, a desk, a fireplace, and oddly enough, an organ.

"Make yourself comfortable, Madame will be down momentarily."

He left then, presumably to alert Norma of her presence. Rather than sit down, Beth wandered around the room looking at all the pictures. She realized quickly they were all of Norma, and became fascinated by them. They ranged from a very young girl to the young woman she was when she stopped working. What truly amazed her was that no two pictures were alike.

Each was a different pose, a different dress, a different background. All held the same regal air that could only come from Norma Desmond. She was examining a picture that looked to be one of the earliest when she heard the sound of heels on the floor behind her. She turned, and her breath caught. There was Norma Desmond in the flesh, and it was almost as if she were looking in a mirror.

The actress herself stopped suddenly, her eyes growing wide. They simply stared at each other for a minute, enthralled with the sight of the other. It was Beth who sucked up her courage and broke the silence.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Desmond. I'm Elizabeth Woods."

Norma still didn't move or say a word, and Beth began to feel it was a mistake to come. It had never occurred to her that her likeness to the woman might shock her so badly. She certainly didn't want to frighten her or strike her mute. Max, who she just noticed had been standing in the shadows, stepped up behind the older woman. He whispered something to her and she blinked several times before smiling.

"Hello, Miss Woods. Your letter was certainly different than the others I have been accustomed to." She crossed to a small couch and draped herself across it. "Won't you sit down?"

Beth hurried to do as asked, careful to appear calm and not trip. She perched elegantly on the edge of a chair across from the woman, her back straight and ankles crossed, the very picture of grace. Norma was struck once again by how eerily similar they were. Snapping herself out of it, she began playing hostess, something she hadn't done in several years.

"Would you like something to drink? Champagne perhaps?"

"Oh, no thank you. I'm not old enough to drink."

Norma thought she was joking. Not old enough to drink? She had to be at least sixteen. She herself had had her first drink at fourteen. She was more than old enough.

"Max! Bring something to drink."

They sat in silence as he carried out his orders. Norma looked Beth over critically, so critically the girl had to remind herself not to squirm. Max returned with flutes of champagne, and Norma easily took one. He offered the other to Beth, and she tried again to politely decline.

"Nonsense, take it. Take it!" Norma demanded when the girl didn't immediately do as told.

Beth took the glass with a shaky hand, careful not to spill it, but she didn't take a sip either. Norma watched her, still completely convinced she was older than her actual age.

"How old are you, Elizabeth?"

"Twelve, Ma'am."

The older woman couldn't help it, she laughed. The girl was obviously older than that!

"Oh come, you can be honest with me. How old are you really?"

"Twelve."

Norma began to get angry. She had never been fond of people lying to her, especially not someone she wasn't very well acquainted with.

"Enough games. You've got to be at least sixteen."

"With all due respect," Beth began slowly, sensing she was playing with fire, "I really am twelve. I look a lot older than I am. But I was born in 1930, you can ask anyone on the lot at Paramount."

"Paramount?" Norma asked, sitting up. "Paramount studios?"

"Yes Ma'am, my father works there."

"Enough calling me ma'am, it makes me feel a thousand years old. Call me Norma."

"Okay...Norma."

"What does your father do? By any chance does he know Mr. DeMille?" she asked hopefully, her eyes lighting.

"Yes, he knows Mr. DeMille, but he isn't an actor or even a producer. He isn't even an assistant," she said somewhat sadly. "He's only a lighting technician."

Norma visibly deflated, lying back against the couch.

"Oh, well then..." she trailed, not entirely sure how to finish the sentence.

"Norma," Beth said quietly, "what was it like to act in silent movies? It looked amazing."

The older woman brightened immediately. She loved nothing more than discussing her career.

"It was, so wonderful," she breathed. "In those days, there was no dialogue. We didn't need dialogue, we had faces. The code was non-existent. We could do almost anything we wanted. And the scripts, oh, the scripts! They were breathtaking.

"Back then stars were on a pedestal the public worshipped. I had thousands of fans, of course I still do, but back then I couldn't go anywhere without someone approaching me and asking for my autograph."

Beth sat enraptured by the star, completely enthralled with the story. Max stood nearby in shadows, watching her. There was something about her he liked, something other than her uncanny resemblance to Norma. She seemed genuinely interested in her as a person, not just worshipping her as a fan.

"Silent films were the best ever made. Have you ever seen a silent movie, Elizabeth?"

"Yes, I've seen all of yours."

Norma drew back a bit, shocked at the response. She hadn't expected her to have seen any, let alone all hers.

"All my pictures?" she asked, shock evident in her voice.

"Yes, my favorite was _Male and Female_. The scene where the lion stood on your back was mystifying."

This girl had seen all her pictures. Max was impressed. Not even Norma had prints of all her films. He wanted to step closer and join the conversation, find out what she thought of some of the shots. But he remained still, knowing it was not his place.

He watched them go on and on about her films. If she liked them, if they were difficult to shoot, costumes, and was she scared when she did some of the trickier shots? At one point, the girl got up and sat beside Norma to hear her better. He interrupted them when she was in the middle of her swimming story to alert them it was time for lunch.

"The shot had to perfect, because we could only do it once. I couldn't swim, but there I was getting ready to jump into the ocean off of a pier that was at least nine feet above the water. They had offered to give me a stunt double, but I wouldn't let them. The director called action, I took a big breath, and-"

"Madame, forgive for interrupting, but it's time for lunch."

Norma whipped around to face him, a glare fixed on her features.

"Max! You know better than to interrupt me!" She turned back to Beth.

"What happened then, Norma?"

"I jumped of course. I remember the water was ice cold."

"Were you scared?"

"Terrified. I struggled to get back to the surface. When I came up I saw they had lowered a ladder for me. I-well, I don't really know what I did, but I managed to get to the ladder. I climbed up, and one of the assistants wrapped me in a blanket. The whole crew was congratulating me. The shot had been perfect, and I had jumped."

"That's amazing. I don't think I could've done that."

Norma smiled, soaking up the praise like a sponge. Max wheeled in a cart with two trays, presumably lunch. The older woman ignored him, too focused on the conversation. Beth noticed him, but followed Norma's lead.

"What about you, Elizabeth? Tell me about yourself."

"Well, like I said, I'm twelve and my father is the light technician for Paramount. I grew up there, playing on the back lot and fake sets. They wanted me as a child actor, and after that my father wouldn't let me go back. After that I stayed with my neighbor. I guess they forgot about me."

She shrugged, the idea not troubling her.

"I started school not long after, but it wasn't until I was nine that I started being compared to you, and subsequently found out who you were."

Her story was not impressive, not in the least, but what intrigued Norma was their resemblance. She wanted to know how someone she wasn't related to could pass as a younger version of herself.

"Elizabeth, how do you look so much like me?"

The girl looked utterly confused and unsure of how to answer.

"I'm not sure. I've always looked like this. I think it's why the studio noticed me when I was so young."

"But if you really are twelve as you say, and I'm beginning to believe you are, you look so much older."

"Yes, I've been told," Beth said with a blush of embarrassment. "But after I found out who you were I always took it as a compliment."

Norma beamed, and uncovered both trays with a flourish. Beneath was some of the most foreign food Beth had ever seen. Not that it wasn't common in America, it was just extremely expensive. They continued to talk, eating without really thinking about it. Roast duck breast, salad, bread, all of it slowly disappeared without either really noticing.

"Would you like to see the house?" Norma asked as they were finishing up.

"That would be amazing, thank you," Beth said in awe.

"Max!" the actress called over her shoulder, her gaze never straying from the girl.

"Yes, Madame?"

"Take away the trays, we've finished." She stood and stretched, relishing the feeling of her muscles unkinking. She held out a hand to help the girl up, and easily pulled her onto her feet once the grip was secure. "We'll start with the upstairs, come along."

They ascended the grand staircase and were faced with a hall. All the doors were shut, so Beth had no idea what lay inside. Norma gestured to the room at the far end of the hall closest to the top of the stairs. It was to the left from their viewpoint, and the girl waited anxiously to hear what was behind it.

"That's my bedroom, but I don't show it to guests. All the rooms in this part of the house are bedrooms, each furnished differently." She led them down the hall to the right, and turned left at the end. There was a small corridor there that connected to a back stairway, and soon they were standing in a magnificent kitchen. "As you can see, this is the kitchen. I don't spend much time here, it's Max's domain."

They continued on into another hall, where Norma pointed out a massive library. They entered, and it was beautiful. Ceiling to floor bookshelves, all in dark wood. The furniture was dark as well, and overall the room gave off a comforting feeling. The only slip in the illusion was the layer of dust that covered the books.

It was apparent that Max had tried to keep it spotless, but with such a large space and so much to do with the rest of the house he must've prioritized. It wasn't long before they left there, continuing deeper into the old villa. There was a formal dining room, also dull from lack of use. There was a music room, a proper one, with a piano and a few violins.

"I didn't know you played," Beth said as she ghosted her hand over the top. "No interviews or articles mentioned it."

"I don't, but I knew several people who did. Do you play?"

"Not very well, but enough to get by."

"Play something for me."

"I-I don't know, it's been a while."

"Play."

Taking a deep breath, Beth sat on the bench and blew lightly on the keys to remove the thin layer of dust that had settled on them. She sat forward and propped open the lid, as it was a baby grand, and sat back, thinking of a song. She eventually settled for something she had memorized a few years back when she was still in lessons. Her fingers settled lightly on the keys and she began to play Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven. It flowed easily, yet she still made mistakes.

Luckily, Norma didn't seem to notice.

"That was beautiful," Norma said as the final notes echoed around the room, her eyes closed.

"Thank you," the girl whispered.

"If you can play like that why do you not do it professionally?"

"Because that's the hardest song I learned. It took me over a year to memorize it."

Norma was silent, her eyes still closed. She sprang up suddenly and unexpectedly, startling Beth.

"Come, there's still a few rooms left."

She followed the older woman obediently, curious as to what else the house held. Down the hall a door was open, allowing sunlight to stream out. They stepped inside, and were immediately bathed in sunlight. It was a sunroom, the ceiling and three walls made of glass. It looked out onto what once must have been a garden, but was now nothing more than weeds.

"This used to be my favorite room," Norma said quietly.

Beth had the sense to stay silent and allow the older woman to think. She snapped out of it soon enough and stepped out of the room, leaving Beth to scramble after her. The next room was empty, but it bore odd markings on the walls as if something with very large claws had been there.

"This is where I kept my pet tiger. He was a magnificent animal, never harmed me." She sighed, the sound filled with sadness. "Unfortunately, he didn't care for one of my old acquaintances and as a result was shot."

"I'm sorry," Beth said softly, unsure of how to respond.

"Yes, well," Norma said as she ushered her back into the hall. "There's one last room, but we won't go down."

"Down?"

"Oh yes, it's in the cellar. It's a bowling alley."

Beth stood slack-jawed, for the first time struck speechless. Who else had a bowling alley in their house?! It was incredibly cool. She voiced this thought to the older woman, who only laughed and told her plenty of houses had the exact same thing. She then led them back into the room filled with pictures.

The older woman all but collapsed on a love seat, Beth sitting on the far end by her legs.

"Would you like to see the memory books?" the older woman asked.

"Okay."

"Max!" Norma yelled.

"Yes, Madame?"

"Bring the memory books."

"From which year, Madame?"

"Don't ask stupid questions, bring them all!"

Beth soon found out his question had been completely reasonable when he returned with a stack of albums so tall he couldn't see over the top of it. He deposited them on the floor in front of the women, and stepped to the side.

"Will there be anything else, Madame?"

"No, thank you, Max."

Norma selected a book from the top of the pile. In gold script, it had the years 1918-1919 across the cover. And so Beth's journey into the actress' past began. They sat for hours looking through the albums, Norma explaining a clipping or picture, eyes flashing at some of the lies that had been printed by gossip columnists. They were so deep into the stack that time got away from them.

It wasn't until a clock somewhere deep in the house chimed four times that Beth realized how late it was. She jumped up with a gasp, startling the older woman.

"I have to go!" she said frantically.

"But we haven't finished the books yet," Norma said from her place on the love seat.

"I'm sorry Norma, but I have to be home before my father. He doesn't know I'm here and I have to cook dinner."

She said all this in a rush, and she was rocking on the balls of her feet. Norma wanted to know more about this. Why did the girl seem so afraid of her father? And why was she cooking? Couldn't her mother do it?

"Why do you have to cook dinner? Can't your mother do it?"

"Norma, it's a really long story, but I really don't have the time. I'm sorry, but it was an absolute dream to have met you."

Max, who had shown up at some point during the conversation, was leading her toward the door.

"Wait!" Norma called as she followed them into the entry hall. "Can you come back tomorrow, Elizabeth? I enjoyed your company. It's nice to have someone to talk to who's interested in my films."

The girl smiled, and the older woman smiled back.

"Yes, I can come, but it will have to be after three and I can only stay a few hours."

"After three? Why?"

"I have school."

"Can't you just not go?"

"I can't skip again. If my father found out he would ground me for life."

"Oh," Norma said, disappointed she couldn't persuade the girl to come earlier. "Well, then I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, Elizabeth."

"Tomorrow afternoon," the girl confirmed as she stepped out the door. "Oh, and Norma? Call me Beth."

"Until tomorrow, Beth." She stepped out of the door and began her walk home. "Max."

"Yes, Madame?"

"Make sure she gets home safely."

"Yes, Madame."


	3. Back Again

Norma had been restless all day. To be honest, it was driving Max crazy, and that seldom happened. She wouldn't stop pacing the house. The whole house, not just her bedroom, and she was mumbling to herself. He knew she was trying to crack the mystery of how Beth looked so much like her without being hers.

He kept silent, having no ideas of his own, and watched to make sure she didn't hurt herself. Seven hours was a long time to wait for company, and he was beginning to wish the young lady had agreed to miss school. He could sense Norma was becoming attached to her, though even she wasn't aware of it yet, and knew if the girl continued to come some new arrangement would have to be made. At three o'clock, Norma stopped pacing and seated herself in 'The Sanctuary' as Max called it. With a silent sigh, he stayed close to the front door, knowing that it was going to be at least another thirty minutes before Beth would make her appearance.

From what she told him last night, her school was actually not that far away, but on foot it would take some time.

_**Last Night**_

He had been following her in the car for a few blocks now. She was walking calmly and happily, still in a daze, he assumed, from meeting Norma. So content was she that he almost wrecked the car when her voice floated back to him.

"I know you're following me, Max. I heard the car start not too long after I was in the driveway." He didn't reply, wondering if that might make her change her mind. She sighed and stopped completely. "Max, I know it's you."

She turned and walked back to where he was idling. He tried to keep the surprise off his face, but didn't succeed completely. The girl laughed a little at the shock she had caused, and to him it sounded like bells, completely different than Norma, but beautiful all the same.

"I'm sorry, but I had to say something. It was awkward to keep going knowing you were following me."

"It's all right, Miss Woods."

"Please call me Beth," she said as she leaned on the door. "I'm not Norma. Heck, I'm not even a teenager yet."

"Okay, Miss Beth."

She sighed, exasperated at the formality.

"Max, I talked to Norma a long time today. She is truly amazing, but I think you know that. Which brings me to what I want to ask you. How long have you known her?"

"I discovered her when she was sixteen. She was every bit as beautiful, talented, and energetic as she is now."

"Max, why have you stayed with her all these years? I know you used to be a great director."

She had an inkling of why he'd stayed, after all, she'd seen the papers about both the marriage and the divorce. Max knew that too, just as he knew that the girl didn't seem bothered by the fact.

"I found life unbearable after she left me."

She laid a hand atop one that was on the wheel.

"You're a good man, Max. Most men would've been bitter and resentful. It takes a real man to not only forgive, but continue to love."

"How are you so wise?"

"I read a lot," she said with a smile. "And of course, watch movies."

He didn't smile, he hardly did anymore, but he covered her hand with his other for a brief moment.

"Come along Miss Beth, Madame will be worried something has happened to you."

"I really like her, Max. Not just as an actress, but as a person. She's really very kind when you talk with her for a while."

"Yes, she is."

* * *

She had walked alongside the car for the remainder of the trip. They continued to talk, her coaxing information out of him, mainly about himself. They talked films, and he was shocked to hear some of her ideas on how to shoot a certain sequence. They were amazing, and he assured her she'd make a fortune if she ever wanted to direct. She'd laughed him off and told him she'd leave it to the greats.

He'd left her a block away from her house, staying to make sure she'd made it safely inside. She had beaten her father, luckily enough. He liked her, which was a good thing, as Norma did, too. He just worried her father would prevent her coming if he found out. He knew her father, and knew how much he despised actors, Norma especially, simply because she had slapped him when he'd said something lewd to her onset.

Had it been her fault that her beauty was being shown off in a gown that was scandalously low for that time? No, and just because she was a woman didn't give him the right to ask her to sleep with him. Or rather, suggest it as crassly as he could. So no, he wouldn't approve of his daughter being friends with the woman who rejected him once upon a time. As he stood waiting for Beth to come, he wondered if she knew any of the history between Norma and her father.

* * *

Beth sat in last period anxiously tapping her pencil. There were only five minutes until the final bell, and then she would be off to Norma's. Her teacher was droning on about math, something about pre-algebra, but how could she could focus when she was going back to 10086 Sunset Boulevard? She had thought their meeting would be a once-in-lifetime thing. She snapped out of her musings when she heard laughter.

Reluctantly, she turned from the clock to face her teacher. As she had thought, he had asked her a question.

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

"Daydreaming again, Miss Woods? Solve the problem on the blackboard, please."

She looked at it, and realized she had no idea what to do. It was a triangle, one side marked with twenty feet, one with eighteen, and one with an 'x'. She supposed she had to find the missing side, but how?

"Miss Woods, we're waiting."

She opened her mouth to give a fake answer, and just as she did the bell rang. She closed her mouth and smirked at her teacher, noting with pleasure how his face tinted the lightest shade of red. She grabbed her books and stepped out of the room. Absently, she wondered how much Norma knew about conjugating verbs, as that was her English homework. Or maybe Max knew about it since English wasn't his first language.

Either way, she'd finish her homework before second period. And if she didn't, well, seeing Norma was more important. As she began the walk to the mansion, she wondered if the star would even remember asking her to come back. Max had told her that she was forgetful sometimes. He had even explained the older woman was prone to depression, something she almost couldn't believe.

He had told her of the attempts to kill herself, but that had been years before, when the talking pictures first came out. She had learned there was no gas in her room, that the house had no locks, and that he even had to hide his razors extra carefully. It concerned her, because she didn't want her to hurt herself. She had told Max as much, and he'd told her quietly that she'd be the first one in many years since himself to think that way. She looked down at her watch, speeding up her pace when she realized it was already three-fifteen.

She had told Max three-thirty, and three-thirty it would be.

* * *

Max was beginning to worry. Beth had promised three-thirty, and it wasp already three-twenty-five. Norma was curled on a couch, tensely waiting. He kept shooting glances at her as the minutes ticked by, watching and seeing how as each minute passed a little more hurt appeared on her face. He was just going to make an excuse for the girl when the bell rang.

Norma sat upright, and he hurried to the door. Beth was doubled over on the other side, panting and clutching her side.

"Hi, Max," she managed to get out in between gasps.

"Hello, Miss Beth. Madame is waiting for you."

"How is she?" she asked as she straightened, as if she had known her longer than a day.

And perhaps she had, somehow. Perhaps through her movies or interviews she was the only person who knew her better than Max.

"She has been on edge all day. She was beginning to worry you weren't coming," he replied in hushed tones.

"She hasn't tried anything?"

"No." He glanced over his shoulder, knowing that if they didn't hurry Norma would seek them out. "Did you run here?"

"Just the last few blocks," she smiled as she followed him into the same room filled with pictures. Her eyes settled on the woman sitting on the couch and acting calm and uncaring. "Hello, Norma," she said, smiling fondly.

"Hello, Beth. Now, where did we leave off?"

Happily, the girl put down her books and took a seat beside the older woman to continue looking through the memory books. Max watched from the side as always, though now Beth knew why. It took a mere hour to finish the albums, and after that she calmly asked Norma about conjugating verbs.

"Norma, what do you know about conjugating verbs?"

"What is that? And why are you asking me about it?"

"It's something I have to do for English, and I was hoping you could help me, but it's okay. Max!"

He came immediately, used to Norma calling him.

"Yes, Miss Beth?"

"Max, do you know how to conjugate verbs?"

"Yes, Miss Beth."

"Will you help me?"

He glanced at Norma, gauging her reaction. She looked indifferent, but her eyes revealed her curiosity.

"Of course, Miss Beth."

Beth reached down and got her English textbook, notebook, and a pen. She settled back against the couch, Norma changing her position so she could watch. After Norma had settled her back against the armrest and swung her legs up on the cushion, they began. Some were easy, and Beth was able to do them herself. When she couldn't, she would read them aloud and Max would help her.

To her surprise, Norma picked up on it quickly, and was soon giving answers faster than Max. They finished quickly with three of them working on it.

"Thank you," Beth said as she put her things away. "I couldn't have finished that without your help." The clock struck five, and she stood and gathered her things. "I should be going."

Sadness flashed in Norma's eyes, and Beth felt bad to have caused it, but she knew she had to go.

"Must you go already?" Norma asked, trying for all the world not to sound sad and clingy.

"Yes, I'm sorry. I have to get home and start dinner before my father gets home."

"Why do you have to cook? Doesn't your mother do that?"

Beth bit her lip, unsure if she should reveal anything about her mother. Norma was looking at her expectantly, and she could sense Max's curiosity even though he wasn't looking directly at her. She sat her books back down and sank back into her place beside the older woman.

"I don't have a mother." Norma's eyes widened and she pushed herself into a half-sitting position. "She died in childbirth with me. My father has raised me alone all this time. He's a strict parent, and insists I learn to sew and cook so that I can make someone a good wife one day."

"That's absurd! A good housewife! Has he ever thought you might not want to be a housewife?" Beth remained silent. "Well? Do you want to be a housewife?"

"No," the girl answered in nearly a whisper. "I'm not sure what I want to do, but settling down and living a quiet life is definitely not it." She sighed and continued with her story. "As I said, I played on Paramount's back lot as a child. My father didn't want to take me there, but as a single parent with a child not yet in school what choice did he have?

"He forbid me from interacting with any of the directors or actors. I couldn't understand why, so when he was up above the set I would sneak away and talk to some of the actors and stars." She smiled fondly as she remembered her time on set. "Joan Crawford had just started out and was very kind, as was Fred Astaire and Bing Crosby. I would always get back to where my father left me when the director called cut.

"One day, we on a DeMille picture and I was playing with some sort of prop. I didn't mean to, but I somehow worked my way over to the actual set. Luckily, they had just cut. Mr. DeMille stopped rearranging the extras and couched down in front of me. Naturally, I thought I had interrupted a shot and was in trouble.

"I started to cry and say I was sorry. He assured me that no, I wasn't in trouble, but that I was a beautiful child and he needed a little girl for a supporting role in his next picture. Would I be interested? I was about to say yes, of course I was. But my father stormed over and told him no, I wasn't.

"He was polite, but I could tell he was mad. He dragged me away roughly, and took me outside. He screamed at me. I had never seen him like that before. He told me that actors and anybody else in the business were cruel and unforgiving, and that I should never talk to them.

"I stayed with our neighbor for the next few years until I started school. He was rougher with me after that. I have a strict schedule, and I'm not supposed to deviate from it. I get up at five, get ready for school and make breakfast. He leaves first, about six-thirty, and I wash dishes and leave at seven after locking up the house.

"I'm at school from eight until three, and I get home about three-thirty. I have from then until four-thirty to do my homework, and then I start dinner. We eat in silence, and then I clean the house until nine, when I take a bath and go to bed." The clock struck five-thirty and she cringed. "He spanks me if I don't follow the schedule exactly."

Norma sat, unable to respond from the massive range of emotions she was feeling. Rage, sadness, pity, concern, and guilt were just a few. And there was a strong urge to protect, which she didn't understand. Hesitantly, she reached out and laid a hand on the girl's knee. Beth glanced down at it and then covered it with her own, not seeming to think twice.

They sat that way for a few minutes, neither really wanting to speak. Finally, Beth gave Norma's hand one last squeeze and stood, gathering her books once again.

"I really do have to go," she said quietly.

Norma nodded, for the first time understanding.

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

Beth smiled, glad to be invited back.

"Of course." She turned and smiled at Max. "Bye, Max."

She turned and escorted herself to the door. Norma waited until she heard it click before snapping her fingers at Max. He went to her side.

"Make sure she gets home safely. Better yet, drive her."

He could sense the pain and confusion in her voice, and suspected if he looked at her it would be prevalent in her eyes as well.

"Yes, Madame."

She grabbed his arm as he tried to walk away.

"I'm confused, Max. I don't understand..."

He patted her hand gently.

"I do, Madame."

"At least one of us does."

* * *

The drive home had been pleasant but unexpected. Beth and Max had talked the whole way, him giving insight on Norma's confusion and suggesting she try to help her over it the next afternoon. She agreed before thanking him and slipping from the car. She stopped dead in her tracks as she reached the front gate. The lights in the house were on, which meant her father was home.


End file.
